


A Rooftop Mishap

by carasgaladhon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on The Empty Hearse scene in which Sherlock and Moriarty nearly kiss., M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carasgaladhon/pseuds/carasgaladhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This isn't a serious work of mine. Rather, it is what my friend and I write in our spare time for fun. I hope it's as fun to read as it was to write!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Goodbye John, Hello Jim

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a serious work of mine. Rather, it is what my friend and I write in our spare time for fun. I hope it's as fun to read as it was to write!

Jim Moriarty chuckled as he listened to Sherlock talk to John on the phone. Sherlock's deep, deep blue eyes were almost irresistible.

_'I wonder what would happen if I kissed him.'_ he thought.

He shook his head violently to himself, as he knew that would never happen. Suddenly, he began to chuckle again.

"Shhhh, darling, he'll hear you." Sherlock whined.

Jim sighed, wondering how Sherlock would whine underneath him. the thought was cut short, however, by Sherlock's utterance of, "Goodbye, John"

A scream could be heard ringing through the forest of buildings around St. Bart's, but Jim didn't care. Sherlock didn't care either as Jim's warm hands were clutching at his throat.

"I want you, Sherlock!" he moaned.Sherlock's brows twitched in surprise, his expression confused, but then slowly melted into something in between arousal and competitiveness. Sherlock leaned in, and breathed Jim in for a moment, kissing him tenderly and sensually on the lips. Jim's tongue traced the distinguished Cupid's bow that he had for so long studied upon Sherlock's mouth.

"God yes. Finally." Sherlock hissed into Jim's ear, biting and kissing at his neck.

"Finally? I thought you loved John." Jim murmured.

"You. Only you. You've always been the one to truly understand, to even confound and confuse me. How could I not love you? It also helps that your appearance is more than remotely aesthetically pleasing."

"Oh you do know how to turn on a psychopath. And that, I suppose, is due to the fact that you're one too!" Jim giggled, hands finding their way into Sherlock's tight jeans pockets. The defensive retort of "High functioning sociopath," was sliced down the middle as Sherlock's breath caught.

From far below them, John wept soggily over the fake body of his supposed best friend and life long love. The real Sherlock, however, was splayed compromisingly on his back as Jim crawled, catlike, up onto his hips.

"I can read you. I know exactly what you like. I know how to make your spine tingle, and your lip quiver. I know how to make your toes curl, and your eyes roll to the back of your head." Sherlock drawled, as his tongue worshipped the length of Jim's neck.

"Actions speak louder than words. Shouldn't you buy me a drink first?" Moriarty asked, snickering gleefully as Sherlock continued sucking on his neck.

"We've had more than enough foreplay, don't you think? It just took form in mental stimulation. I know for a fact that it aroused you too." Sherlock explained, his huge hands pulled on Jim's belt loops, grinding against him. "We're not gonna do this on a soggy rooftop, are we?" Sherlock asked, his expression turned sour.

"Doesn't that make it dirtier? More...illegal?" Jim groaned the last word at the base of Sherlock's neck and reveled in the convulsion that went up his captive's body.

"Jimothy, dearest Jim I've waited much too long for this-for you!" Sherlock begged.

"Oh I know you and I know what you want, but you'll just have to wait a little longer." Moriarty mumbled, his breath heavy on Sherlock's neck. "How about we make it a game? You can be my bitch, and you can do whatever I say." Jim flirted. Sherlock cried out as Jim rubbed the inside of Sherlock's hip.

"Yes, Jim, yes, please. I want you to abuse me."

"Then let me get off." Moriarty hissed, putting on his villain face. "Let go of me. Meet me at my place at exactly 3 o'clock, and if you're late, I will punish you. Though you might like it, you sick, twisted, sociopath." Sherlock's kaleidoscope eyes shone with lust. His grip on Jim eased, and he whispered.

"Get off, then. I like games as much as you, but I'd like my prize sooner rather than later. Shall we make it two o'clock?" Sherlock asked in a demanding tone.

"Then you wouldn't be my bitch. I want you to be so full of this craving that you're practically on your knees when I open the door to let you in. Stop being so bossy."

"I can't help it when you're so sexy," Sherlock winked and said smokily, "Catch you later, Jim," his earthen tones practically growled.

" Not if I catch you first!" Jim impishly smiled.

                                                                                                                                                                            ***

Sherlock found it difficult to wait such an excruciatingly long time for the promise of... whatever it was that Jim had planned for him. There was the lingering thought in Sherlock's mind as he dined at a scuzzy chippy round he corner of Hampstead Lane that Jim- Moriarty, might actually have plans about which he wasn't entirely comfortable... but the a gain, Sherlock had agreed to be Jim's bitch. He really didn't want to admit to himself that he wanted to be submissive. He wanted the promised lashings across his bare back and the feeling of teeth at his neck. He had always considered himself to be a strong man and, in such fantasies as these, as having the upper hand,as it were, on all proceedings. But there was something about Jim that enticed his deepest interests and twisted them into something considerably opposite to the original. Sherlock concluded that the chips were doing him no favors and the only hunger he had was for cock.

It was nearing three am now and he only had a couple more minutes to go before his evening plans came into full focus. Catching a cab, he donned a red scarf and leather gloves. Speaking in a tense fashion, he gave the address to the cabbie and lit a cigarette.

"This is a no smoking cab, sir," came the reply is a Lithuanian accent. 

"It doesen't matter. I have patches," Sherlock replied, outing his cigarette on the window.

"Sherlock, you know if you do that again, I'm going to have to punish you," came a bored sounding drawl, replacing that of the Eastern European cabbie. Sherlock started and caught the sexily dead looking eyes in the rear-view mirror. His heart began to pound and his pupils dialated. Was this what happened to ordinary people? The feeling that was spreading its way through his veins like electricity or venom made him feel wild and out of control. He hungered once again for something more. 

"You've arrived at your destination and not a moment too late, love," Jim informed his passenger, switching the cab off and welcoming Sherlock into the semi darkness of his neighborhood. "My house is this one right here with the red door,"

"You grow roses?" Sherlock observed, admiring the way the scarlett petals threw themselves from the stem to the ever expectant ground below like drops of blood. 

"Call it hobby if you want. I'm not thinking much about the plants if you don't mind. Now it's my turn to speak and you won't interrupt, will you?" They were both on the doorstep now and Sherlock looked down into the face of the man with whom he was about to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to actually continue this fic because of unexpected positive reactions to the first chapter. This is my first attempt at smut so please be kind/ give input.

The first thing Sherlock notices about the house when the scarlet door was unlocked was the oddly monochromatic feel of the place. Of course, he had no clue what he was to expect from Jim's place of living, but the decor seemed to adhere to the slightly insane man's character.

"Welcome, Sherlock," Moriarty drawled from somewhere near his left ear. Icy hands found their way to his neck, removing the tightly wrapped scarf from his guest's throat as Sherlock himself surveyed the room further, trying to ignore the shivers down his arms and fingers which had nothing to do with the windchill through a still-open window close by. Seeing his fleeting glance to the gaping aperture, Jim tutted.

"Well now, we can't have that now can we?" he slid the window shut and turned once more to Sherlock, now clad only in a thin white oxford. "The neighbors could hear anything!"

"What is it you expect them to hear?" Sherlock questioned, still appearing almost nonchalant as he traipsed to the room directly in front of the hallway, wherein lay a glossy,  black record player, a white shag rug, and immaculately porcelain grand piano, all under the champagne flare of the hanging chandelier above. On the crimson walls, the light gave a somewhat baroque ambiance. His fair fingers stroked the reflective keys. 

"Oh I don't know," came the reply, tone like the reflected light off of the blade of a sword, where one side's brilliance conceals an underlying shadow. 

"Do you play?" Sherlock asked, turning, head jerking to the piano.

"No, no. I really am no good with music," he laughed, stepping ever closer to where Sherlock stood, calm facade gradually shattering like glass. His eyebrows pulled together so slightly and he placed both hands behind to grip the lid of the piano. Now Moriarty stood directly in front of him, pinning him helplessly, and stretching on his leather-bound toes to whisper into Sherlock's ear. "But I'll tell you what I can do. I can make even the great Sherlock Holmes turn human. It seems I already have," The last word of this was just a breath, but made his captive stir as if he had shouted. 

Jim's tongue found Sherlock's cheekbones and traced the hollow down to his lips. To his own surprise, but not that of his host, Sherlock reacted immediately, one arm remaining by his support, while the other ran feverishly through Jim's pomaded hair. His lips moved of their own accord, the rhythms of the two men well syncopated. The crotch of his black trousers strained with his carnal excitement.

"Ooh" growled Jim, hands finding the bulge, "Looks like I've caught you off guard!" Sherlock's heart beat quickened so that the individual beats became indistinguishable from one another. He let out a throaty moan at the touch and forced his lips more roughly against Moriarty's. He felt steady hands unbuttoning his pants and Jim's face pull away from his. "Darling, for being so awfully good, I'm going to give you a present!" With one last look of amusement, he dropped to his knees and let Sherlock's trousers fall will him. Within an instant, Sherlock found the need to steady himself against the piano again as Moriarty mouthed him through the fabric of his boxers. With the feeling, Sherlock let out another choke of pleasure and gripped his support harder. Jim proceeded to remove the thin fabric and close his mouth around Sherlock's fully erect dick. 

"Oh god, Jim!" he cried as Moriarty's tongue made it's way up and down the shaft like an expert ice skater. Jim loved the way his former enemy convulsed at any new move. If anything, seeing great men fall to their knees and beg for mercy was what he considered to be the greatest honour for himself. 

Sherlock, his control locked out as soon as the window had been shut, now grabbed Jim's hair roughly and fucked his mouth desperately, shivers crashing through him whenever teeth would graze his cock. With every thrust, he cried Jim's name louder and more hoarsely until, with a final outcry of satisfaction, he came in Moriarty's mouth and down his throat. Getting swiftly to his feet, the two shared one last viscous kiss before it was the other's turn for amusement. 


End file.
